


Good Things In Lacy Packages

by marznipan



Series: Disgracing Michael Langdon [1]
Category: American Horror Story, American Horror Story: Apocalypse
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Humiliation, Mommy Kink, Pain, Panties, Panty Kink, Spanking, Verbal Humiliation, dom!reader, sub!Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 05:37:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19166884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marznipan/pseuds/marznipan
Summary: Michael conducts an interview with a Grey that catches his attention, they're a little more mouthy than he had anticipated. A scuffle leads to the exposure of an embarrassing secret.





	Good Things In Lacy Packages

**Author's Note:**

> i also posted this here:  
> https://hawthornemichael.tumblr.com  
> xox

The end of the world sucked and everybody had lost somebody, but you felt like you had lost the most. You had lost your freedom.

Hands red, raw and bloody from always being submerged in water and the vigorous scrubbing, your fingers ached and throbbed with every movement. Even the cold gust of air that wafted onto your skin when you walked with a little bit of pep in your step hurt when it touched your lesions and tender wounds. Dignity was the only thing that you thought you had left since the world had been royally fucked in the ass, so you have never let a single tear fall from your eyes due to the physical and emotional pain that comes free with living at Outpost 3, at least not until you were alone. Nobody cared about your hands as long as they were working, the only hands that mattered were those that were wearing purple nail polish.  

Whenever you had managed to scrub away a mysterious stain or buff out a series of scratches that seemed to cover the entire floor, another one quickly appeared in another spot. _Every. Single. Time._  It was almost as though someone was fucking with you, watching all the effort that you were putting into cleaning and then instantly disgracing the floor once more, meaning that you would end up grovelling on your hands and knees in the same corridor for hours. Back aching, feeling as though you were being bent into a 'C' slowly and without mercy. 

Each and every day was fully booked for you, leaving no time to wallow in your own pity because you had responsibility and other people's mess to clean up, Goddamn it. The hours of your day that were once taken up by reading, listening to music that you actually enjoyed and living your life the way you wanted to before the apocalypse had been crammed full of repetitive tasks. Coco constantly needed someone to wait on her hand and foot, not being able to reach too far for her own glass or needing someone to lace her into her corset and Evie always needed someone to listen to her self-indulgent stories about how rich and fulfilled she had felt in her life before the end of the world.

You longed for some substance, a break from it all, to do something that you truly enjoyed... Playing the role of an obedient maid, donned with the patronising apron and drab grey dress wasn't a life that you thought you would ever be living, it wasn't a life worth living at all.

 It wasn't like you even had a choice either, if it was truly up to you, you would be lounging around in a stuffy, plum, Victorian dress like the elite Purples and allowing yourself to submit to luxury: sipping cocktails, reading the classics, listening to music (or, listening to that  _one damn song._ You'd only ventured into the sitting room a few times to clean up a spilled drink or to bring more glasses, but you were sure that the radio had never changed from that fucking Carpenters song) and never having to lift a finger. 

You used to love the colour purple, but now all you can associate it with is the bitter taste of the elite and their never-ending list of demands.

Wilhemina Venable, the grand bitch of Outpost 3, would never let you rest and would take every opportunity that she was given to remind you of what you really were - how little you really mattered in comparison to the other people who deserved to be at the Outpost - a Grey. Thanks to her constant degradation and the regularly scheduled selfishness and bratty attitudes of the Purples, your spirit and hope of ever leading a happy life ever again had turned to dust that you would be forced to clean up later. 

That was until the Outpost had a surprise visit from a member of the Cooperative. 

It was quite the shock, having your regular routine rudely interrupted like that, but once you understood the visitors (original) 'intentions', you couldn't even find the breath to complain. 

You, and the rest of the inhabitants of Outpost 3, had been informed on the dire situation regarding the supplies that were left at your outpost and the ruins that the outside world was still in. Everyone seemed to be in a frenzied panic except the man who had delivered the news with little to no emotion in his voice, as if he didn't really care about where these people ended up, as if he didn't care that the world had ended at all. You had wished that you had paid more attention to the things that he, Langdon, was saying. 

Admitting that you were distracted would have been an astronomical understatement. You were aware that words were coming out of his mouth, but the only things that you could focus on were the plush, dusty pink lips that curled around each word before snapping shut. Fixation would have been a better word, you were fixated on his lips because the way that they moved effortlessly, yet still dripping with an abundance of authority, could have caused the Apocalypse on their own.

 Harsh gaze dragging upwards across his face, your eyes fell upon his, the blue shocking you more than it really should have. It had been so long since you have seen a colour so vibrant, any colour other than grey or purple, any colour that had the ability to pierce you the way his personal shade did. Framing his eye sockets with the aggression of metal, prison bars was a heavy dusting of red eye shadow, packed into the corner of the brow bone only to be dragged down messily into the corners of his eyes. This detail was as endearing as it was brooding and edgy, it almost made you forget about your situation as you let your mind wander for a short while... Did he use his fingertips or a brush? Did he put that on himself or did he have his own personal Grey to get him dressed just as Coco does? You were sure that the path to discovering the violent red eye shadow was a funny story, too bad you would, most likely, never hear it.

He wasn't the type to succumb to a cheap 3-in-1 shampoo either, you were one hundred percent sure of that as the gentle blonde curls rested on his shoulders and started to brush against his collarbones and lapel of his jacket whenever his head would move slightly. It would be childish of you to feel jealous of his hair and how well kept it seemed to be, even after the world had ended, you didn't have to worry about this though, as the only thing that you so desperately wanted to do was touch it, run your fingers thought it and twirl the loose ringlets that bunched at the tips around your fingers lovingly. A darker part of you wanted to grab a handful of it tightly in your fits and pull until tears brimmed in the corners of his pretty eyes and he was begging for you to stop or to pull harder. 

Impure thoughts and carnal urges hadn't graced your head for what felt like an eternity. You didn't think that you had felt any release or pleasure since you arrived at Outpost 3, and seeing Landon reminded you of this in the most brutal way possible. When Venable had insisted that copulation was strictly forbidden you had scoffed, not thinking that you would have any desire to do anything sexual at all in this underground shithole, not thinking that sex was a large part of your life up top, but you had been sorely mistaken. It had only taken you a couple weeks of being cooped up in the Outpost and being worked to the bone before you had started to long for the touch of somebody else's skin against yours and the sweet release that you had grown very unfamiliar with lately. Seeing Langdon reminded you of how desperate for this you were and not even you had realised the extents that you would be willing to go to in order to grab your pleasure by the (balls) curls.

Well dressed and poised, he was able to command the room with just a stare, managing to stare Venable down until she moved out of the way begrudgingly so that he could have the floor to speak. He had uttered something about an important, individual interview for everyone so that he could decipher who was worthy of living and who would be left here to die from either starvation or at the bites of cannibals. You had really wished that you had been paying more attention, but the mention of one on one time with a man like this had peaked your interest to the point of stupidity - you were suddenly lost in a cloudy daydream of having your desires and desperate need to get off fulfilled by the most delectable man you had laid your eyes upon since the world had ended... But who were you kidding? Only Purples would be given the chance to survive, lowly Greys would be left to bleed out and then clean up the mess in the afterlife. 

"The interviews won't take long, in a few days you'll know who will be leaving for the Sanctuary and who will be left here, to die. I could take all of you or none of you." Oozed from his lips smoothly, voice reminding you of the sticky texture of honey. Enjoyable and sweet but messy impossibly easy to get stuck in with no escape. If you hadn't have spent the last five minutes thinking about all the different places and ways you would have liked to rail him, or have him rail you, you should have been worried - no, terrified - at the fact that you were most certainly going to be left here to die violently and painfully. 

Images of Langdon spread across a silk bedspread with his hands locked above his head, bound tightly in ropes tied by yours truly, writhing and squirming under your touch. You already knew that desperation would loom good on him, you didn't want to go to far and imagine how he would sound begging and whimpering for your touch because, after all, you were still in public and that would be a dangerous game for you and your body to play. You would love to see what he looked like crushed under the weight of your shoe, but from the looks of him he didn't seem like the type of man to easily submit to just anyone.  

This only made you more determined, there was no better feeling than having a once proud and powerful man kneeling at your feet, asking to cum so sweetly.

His eyes caught yours quickly as he was leaving the room with Gallant, who had offered himself up to go for his interview first, which did not surprise anybody in the slightest, and he flashed a small smirk. Something about this told you that he was aware of the way you were mentally undressing him, thinking about him impurely but you didn't know how he would possibly know that. Much to your dismay, you were too busy silently gushing at the fact that he had only smiled at you.

-

Having your presence requested in Langdon's 'office' was another shock.

Being assigned to live in Outpost 3 as a Grey didn't have many - any - perks, and being left to die was one of them that you had started trying to accept as soon as Langdon had mentioned the interviews. You didn't think that he would even entertain the idea of wasting time, that was already running out at an alarming rate, by questioning Greys. Their places had been made quite clear, below everyone else and only slightly higher than vermin. So, as stated earlier, it was a shock to find out that you were even worthy of an interview. This only distracted you from the impure thoughts that were still swimming around in your head involving the very man who would decide your fate for a second, and then the worry and panic started to set in. 

The walk up to his office took a lifetime as you tried to weigh out your options: you could attempt to seduce him and have one last moment of pure joy before he inevitably die, either from him killing your himself due to disrespect and attempting to wrap your lips around his cock, at the hands of Venable who is leading a one man war on sex itself or at the hands of the cannibals that you already know you will be left to. OR, you could lie. Attempt to come across as cultured and smart, worthy of life at the Sanctuary and actually make an effort to carry on your miserable existence. 

You knocked against the wooden door, hands shaking from nerves and pain, as hard as you possibly could without letting out a cry of pain, fresh cuts and sore skin re-opening from the contact. Not waiting to be invited inside, you slowly stepped in, only opening the door enough so that you could slink through, not wanting to make a huge entrance. 

It appears that this was your first mistake.

"Quite rude of you to just barge in, don't you think?" Langdon asked, the smallest hint of malice lacing his voice, if you hadn't seen the faint smirk that played on his lips you might have thought that his words had a much more sinister tone. "Sit." he commanded, eyes flicking towards the grand chair, much nicer than any of the chairs you were permitted to sit on, in front of the desk.

You complied and nervously shuffled to the chair, neatly smoothing the back of your skirt down as you lowered yourself to sit, trying to avoid any bumps or to look unkempt - or at least to look as good as you possibly could in your 'uniform'. Despite your fear, a small part of you was still thinking about all of the unspeakable things that you would like to do to the man in front of you, and due to his close proximity and the possibility that he knew exactly what you were thinking about, your cheeks started to heat up and presented themselves with a rosy flush. 

Langdon has opened his mouth slightly to begin speaking again but you beat him to it, quickly letting your most pressing thought spill from your lips before you had the chance to stop yourself "I didn't think that Grey's would get an interview." you thought out loud rather than outwardly asking, you knew that this interview was supposed to consist of Langdon asking you questions, not the other way around, but you couldn't help yourself. 

"Michael is fine, and I decide wh-" Langdon, Michael Langdon, attempted to reply, but once one question left your mouth you were powerless to stop your uncontrollable word vomit, the word vomit that you were certain would one day lead you right to your demise.

"Okay,  _Michael."_ The name felt foreign on your lips, it had been so long since you had the luxury of calling someone by their first name, all of the purples preferred to be addressed as 'Sir' or 'Madame' when they were dealing with the help (you, you're the help when in reality, you needed some help for yourself) "What even is the _'Cooperative'_? Is it some Illuminati secret organisation? Because , frankly, if you're in charge of running this place you're not really doing a good job, people are  _starving!"_ There it was, the word vomit that you instantly regretted as soon as you had finished speaking. The embarrassment that you felt from running your mouth had the same bitter taste of stomach bile and in this very moment, you felt like you truly wanted to vomit.

Michael's brow had furrowed, face twisting into an angry frown, it was obvious that it wasn't a fan when someone else took control of the situation, he was in danger of ruining those neat, brushed one hundred times before bed, golden locks if he acted too quickly.

"O-Oh! I'm so sorry, that was rude of me I didn't mean it!" You apologised as best as you could, leaning forwards in your chair to try and seem more sincere, wanting Michael to believe that you were truly sorry as now you were worried that you had botched your only chance at survival. From the look on his face it didn't seem as though your apology was going to cut it. He started to walk around his desk slowly, until he was leaning against the edge and facing your small frame, hand heavy with rings resting on the surface of the desk. 

"Shut  _up_." He spat, banging his hand on the desk to punctuate it, making you jump in shock upon the sound of the impact. That made him smile, seeing how skittish you really were, he liked the fact that he could see right through the 'tough girl' act that you were attempted to put on by being a motor mouth. "Are you really that unhappy here? Why don't you just wander out into the  _nuclear winter_  if you think that the Outpost is being run so badly!" He whisper-yelled into your face, successfully intimidating you. 

It was obvious that speaking ill of the Outposts hit a nerve within him somewhere, a nerve that you would very much like to try and hit again - and if your life wasn't depending on this interview you probably would have.

His outburst wasn't over yet as he began to prod at you, asking invasive questions just to watch you squirm. "You should be fucking kissing my boots just from the fact that you're even at an Outpost, would you have rather died in the blast? What did you have up top that was so good, huh? A boyfriend?" He took a breath to laugh meanly, your shame and level of discomfort from his questions was very visible on your face and this only encouraged him. "I fucking doubt it." He looked you up and down in disgust.

All of your discretion seemed to leave your body in one fast swoop, who did this guy think he was, talking to you like that? You were so sick of all the shit that you had to endure on a daily basis from Venable and the Purples, you didn't need it from a stranger who looks like he hasn't done a single hard days work in his entire life, too. "What the fuck is _that_  supposed to mean?" You spat back, throwing yourself out of your chair and standing up, hands balled into fists. It was difficult for you to be so rude to him, not just because he was your only ticket out of here but because you still couldn't shake the dirty thoughts about him that stuck to the insides of your eyelids and flashed vibrantly whenever you blinked.

"You know what I mean. Nobody would touch you, look at you! On your hands and knees scrubbing shit stains from the floor, you're nothing but a  _maid-_." Michael's words hurt more than they should have, especially after the ways you had been thinking about him. He let out a breathy laugh, smiling with all of his teeth on show, not out of happiness but because he was high on power "-and don't think that I don't know the naughty things you've been thinking about, it's always the virgins who are the most depraved."

Tears had started to brim in your eyes, you knew that you had to leave this instant to avoid utter embarrassment. You didn't know how he had known about all of your thoughts about him, but at this moment you couldn't care less. All you wanted to do was go back to your room and scrub the stains of his presence from your clothes.

"Fuck you, I don't need this. Shove your Sanctuary up your ass." You said in a low voice, desperate to hide the way your voice was trying its hardest to wobble and unleash your tears and sobs. You turned on your heel and started to head towards the door.

A strong, firm hand decorated with rings holding precious stones gripped your wrist tightly and pulled you away from the door, closer to him, violently. "Where do you think you're going?  _I_ say when the interview is over,  _Grey_." You felt as though you were being scolded by a particularly harsh schoolteacher, but the reminded of your class seemed to cut you very deep.

 _"Get off of me!"_  Your scream ripped its way from your chest, leaving your throat feeling slightly raw and torn. You pulled the wrist that he had his fingers wrapped around closer to his own face, grabbing a handful of his dark, silk button up shirt and forcing him backwards, away from you. He stumbled for a few steps, hitting his ass off of the edge of the desk, strands of his hair had fallen out of place and landed on his forehead. 

You noticed that his shirt had become un-tucked on one side due to your push, revealing a delicate lace fabric that hugged his pale hip bone. Deep red and feminine, the lace seemed out of place on a powerful man like him. He hadn't seemed to notice what you were staring at with a slightly open mouth yet, he was too busy moving his hair back into place and coming to terms with the fact that you had pushed him. But you would recognise that floral netting pattern anywhere, the way it hugged the curve of his hip like a second skin only confirmed your presumption.

_Michael Langdon was wearing panties._

Biting your lip as you thought back to your life before the world ended, the way you would stalk around the department stores and online lingerie shops to find the perfect bra and panty set. You weren't sure if you were biting your lip out of sudden interest and arousal, or if you were attempting to bite back a snicker, but it had really made your day as soon as you had realised that the big bad boss of the Cooperative had a fetish for wearing ladies underwear. You wondered if he had different types, different colours and styles. Did anyone else know? Was he ashamed or does wearing them excite him? This seemed like the perfect time to ask, after all, you were both in an interview.

"What's that?" You asked, your once terrified and angry face softening into a highly amused smile, pointing quickly to his hip as he stared at you in confusion.

"What? What is what?" he replied, almost frantically as if he was worried about finding something new too. He furrowed his brow again and looked up at you, before down at his legs where you were pointing.

"What are those under your trousers? Are you wearing pretty panties, Michael?" You couldn't help yourself from letting out small, mocking laugh as the word 'panties' left your lips. This was probably going to get you killed but it was worth it. His face flushed cherry red at your question, he knew that you had got him and now he was cornered in a situation the he didn't have any control over. " _N'awww_ , no need to feel embarrassed about it, they just don't really fit in with the big strong man that you've been pretending to be, do they?" You pressed, watching in delight as he curled inwards on himself. Watching his demeanor change from the angry, top banana who was in control to a cowardly, weak man who had been caught in the act was a scene that you would never forget. You no longer wanted him to fuck you, you wanted to dominate him and take care of him in a way that you had never really had the urge to before.

"I-I'm not embarrassed I'm just.... I didn't expect for you to see them, that's all. I don't wear them all the time!" Michael's attempts at covering his own tracks didn't work in the slightest, mostly because even he knew that what he was saying wasn't true. His voice started to get smaller and smaller as you inched closer to him, standing face to face.

Hearing his breath hitch ever so quietly when you unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down to rest on his thighs, full lace covered crotch on show was a delight. The panties were decorated with a miniature silk bow in the very centre of the waistband, a detail which made Michael seem softer, like someone who would be easy to push into submission. You tucked your finger under the waistband quickly, running your finger along the fabric and around the curve of his hips, the back of your sore fingers brushing against the soft, pale skin of his crotch.

His cock had started to harden as you did this, the pink tip of it peeking over the top of the waistband ever so slightly. Your finger hovered over the small slit that had began to glisten, excess pre-cum rubbing off on the front of the panties.

"Careful now, we wouldn't want to ruin them, would we?" You smiled sweetly, meaning to sound somewhat condescending in an attempt to crank up the embarrassment levels, but much to your surprise, Michael seemed to be taking comfort, and even pleasure in the gentle and childlike way you were encouraging and talking to him.  You pushed the tip of your finger against his slit, scooping up some of his pre-cum.

Michael took in a gasp of pleasure before whispering in a small voice that teetered on the edge of being pathetic and endearing "N-no, mommy..." he finished his words with a gently whimper before resting his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder, attempting to hide his blushing face. His hair was in a disarray and you couldn't think of anything more beautiful if you had tried.

 _Mommy._  That was new, but you couldn't say that you didn't enjoy the way the name fell from his lips with need, as if you were the only thing that he could ever want in that very moment. You swiped the pad of your finger across Michael's cheek gently, smearing his own pre-cum against his skin. You could work with this, you were ready to take control of Michael and playing the part of a maternal figure gave you the perfect opportunity to do so. 

He didn't have to cry to be your baby.

"You... You want to call me Mommy, Michael?" You asked this questions with the sole purpose of embarrassing him further, knowing that the first time he had said the name was an accidental slip. The annoyed huff that you felt ghosting against your neck was enough of an answer to your question.

He shifted, lifting his head slowly to look you in the eyes, letting his head hover below your chin slightly so that he was below you - putting himself in his place before you had to step in. With drool pooling at the corners of his parted lips, he let out a shaky sigh. _"Please..."_ the way that he gazed at you would have usually been enough for you to agree to anything that he desired, but the kicked puppy look on a man like this reminded you of the amount of power that you suddenly had. Letting it rush to your head, you decided that you should use the leverage that you had just gained to your full advantage.

With a light shove, you pushed Michael away gently before forcing him downwards to his knees before you with a tight grip on his shoulder. It was nice to see him on his knees in front of you, just like the way you had been thinking about him before when you really shouldn't have, but you couldn't let this distract you from the main pressing matter at hand. Michael's desperate need for a Mommy. 

"If you really want to be a good boy for Mommy, you can start by rubbing yourself against my leg like the pathetic bitch that you really are." Acidic and evil, the words that you cooed at Michael were a mean dig, getting back at him for being rude to you before you had found out about his once very well kept secret. 

You were certain that Michael didn't think you were being completely serious judging by the confused look that painted his face, but when you pushed your ankle and foot between his open thighs, his fear was confirmed. You were expecting him to hump your leg like a bitch in heat and if he made a mess in his pretty panties, you would have no choice but to dole out a suitable punishment. 

Reluctantly, Michael began to move, his lace covered crotch rubbing against your toned leg slowly at first, as though he was scared to move to frantically and be too greedy. He let out a strained grunt and string of whines once you started to move your leg towards and away from him, helping him move and chase his own pleasure. His head fell forwards as jolts of ecstasy flowed through him, curls falling in front of his face as a curtain that was designed to hide the way his face was twisting with every movement.

"Do you like that? Are you enjoying yourself down there, dry-humping my leg like a little puppy? Maybe we should get you fixed..." Musing out-loud had a very positive effect on Michael, your incessant mocking and teasing causing him to rut against your leg harder and more desperately.  "Ah-ah! Don't spill just yet." You warned as you could see Michael coming undone quickly, starting to lose control of himself as his orgasm started to creep up on him strongly.

You tore your leg away, dropping Michael on his ass as he peered up at you sadly just as a scolded child would.

"Hhn! Fuck! No, please mommy let me finish. I-I need it so badly I'm almost the-" Michael whined and begged at your feet.

"Language! I didn't think that I would have to tell you not to use those type of words, but it looks like you need something to help you remember." You scolded with fake anger, grabbing his upper arm and wrenching him forwards, gesturing for him to lay himself across your lap in that lovely chair that you knew you would miss once your 'interview' was over. "-and you were doing so well." your disappointment was immeasurable and you hoped that it was cutting him deeply, making him feel bad about his mistake. 

From the position he was being held in, Michael knew what he was in for.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry! It was an accident, please Mommy I'll never say it again, you just feel so good that I... I couldn't help myself I'm sorry." He mumbled into your upper thigh helplessly, his hands grabbing at the grey fabric of your dress, clinging on for life.

"I'm afraid it's much too late for that now, darling." you said very matter-of-fact, pushing his trousers down a little bit further so that you had full view of his thick ass and the panties that clung against his skin, you knew that it would feel delicious under the harsh palm of your hand. "Quite rude of you to use those naughty types of words, don't you think?" the way that you mirrored his words back to him made Michael's face burn with lust.

Rubbing your hand against his ass slowly, you let him feel the anticipation of the first spank build up inside of him. A wet patch was forming on the front of your dress as his cock leaked through the thin, barely there, fabric of his panties.

"Count for Mommy." was whispered softly before you struck Michael's ass with as much strength as you could muster, the contact leaving your hand stinging. 

Michael's body lurched forwards due to the impact, a red hand print forming underneath the lace, the burn reminding him of stability and authority that had never experienced the luxury of. "A-ah! One!" he managed after letting out an indecent and uncharacteristically feminine moan.

"Tuhhh... Two."

"Pleasepleaseplease three..."

"Four, four I-I can't please I'm closecloseclose!" was ripped from Michael along with a string of breathless noises that would cause carnage if the rest of the Outpost were to hear.

Judging by the way that his body fell slack on your lap after his breathing calmed down slightly, you knew that he had creamed himself even after you had told him not to. His disobedience was something that you would have to beat out of him at a later date, but today you had decided that he didn't deserve anything more from you, especially after he had gone against your commands. You pushed him off of your lap harshly, cringing slightly when his body hit the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Coldly, you stood up and smoothed the wrinkles from your dress, hiding a smile at the large wet patch Michael's crotch had left on the front of it. "If you wanted to call me Mommy so badly you should have been prepared to be a good boy. Clean yourself up." left your lips emotionless and unforgiving as you left Michael to deal with the mess he had made, ruining his pretty panties. 

Michael wasn't looking forwards to cleaning himself up, having to peel the soiled lace away from his softening but weeping cock, neglected and red raw from being rubbed viciously against the lace. Maybe he would have to bring you to the Sanctuary with him, not only to keep his secret under wraps but so that he could call you Mommy a few more times and have a shot at finally being a 'good boy'. 


End file.
